


Golden Boy

by AnnaNSmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester - Freeform, Fluff, Library Sex, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Dean, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam go to the library to research a hunt their Dad is on, however, Dean has a much better idea as how to spend the afternoon and promptly leads Sam to the newspaper and magazine archive way down in the basement to show him something special. The gesture leaves Sammy happy, loved, and, mostly, completely exhausted once Dean has finished with him. Sam is 14, Dean ist 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Boy

“Dean, this is not the right section. This is the newspaper and magazine archive,” Sam whispers when Dean pushes him into the dusty, windowless old room and closes the door behind them.  
  
“I know,” he replies smirking and Sam can see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes sparkling.  
  
“Then what-” Sam tries to ask, but Dean takes his hand and leads him to the back row of shelves right after turning off the lights in the back.  
  
“I want to show you something,” Dean says excitedly. He stops in the middle of the rows of displayed magazines and when he finally finds what he is looking for he points to an issue of Science Spectrum. “Isn't that awesome?”  
  
Sam doesn't think he has ever heard of that particular magazine and quite frankly he is not sure what is so special about it and why Dean wants to show it to him. The cover is engulfed in yellow and the heading read 'Age of the Golden Boy'. Wrinkling his brows Sam turns to Dean, looking lost as to what exactly he is supposed to see. Dean sighs once and puts both of his hands to Sam's head, shifting him back to the magazine.  
  
“Look at the date, genius.”  
  
His eyes dart to the upper right corner and he gasps when he puts the numbers in perspective: 05/02/1983.  
  
“That's my birthday,” he says, looking between the magazine and his brother.  
  
“It's long discontinued, but before it came out every month; every first Monday of the month. Guess who's such a geek and was born on a Monday?” He chuckled into Sam's ear.  
  
“Not that I could help it,” Sam counters, his cheeks slowly heating up from beneath.  
  
“You sure? We were expecting you a day earlier actually. You just refused to come out, baby boy. Had us waiting.” He leans back to Sammy's ear. “Had me waiting. Waited for you for so long.”  
  
By now Sam's cheeks are ablaze. Averting his gaze he looks back to the magazine, however, he lets Dean continue talking sweetly next to him, all the while being draped close to Dean's front by his brother's arms.  
  
“I actually read the article,” he says between little kisses to Sam's ear and neck and hair and jaw and chin. “Well, most of it. But get this,” he adds excitedly, “apparently some professors were studying the next generation and their probability to bring forth 'high intellectual individuals'. Their studies indicated 1983 had a likeliness to be the year that gave birth to a higher figure of children reaching an IQ higher than not only average, but would most likely surpass standard indication tests, ultimately raising the bar as to what was considered having genial traits... or something like that. Didn't really get the scientific yada yada. But I got the gist and I think they're right.” He continues covering him in kisses to almost an embarrassing level for Sam's age. “My little genius.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam almost moaned in embarrassment. “They're talking about people with an out of the ordinary intellectual mind. I'm not a genius.”  
  
“Please, you know more than your whole grade combined,” Dean interjects, his sounds a little muffled by the skin of Sam's throat.  
  
“That's not true...” He tries to give a convincing argument to his case, but his mind seemed to have stopped working the moment Dean used his tongue to leave traces of wet streaks underneath his chin.  
  
“Is that so? Personally I think the way you can move those skinny hips of yours when my cock dives in and out of your sweet little ass is just ingenious.” Smirking he leans in for a kiss and slowly nibs on Sam's bottom lip, inhaling the delicious scent that was just Sam. “And the way you crane your head back, stand slightly on the tip of your toes, and arch your body so that you're fitting just perfectly into this embrace, wanting me to fully take your mouth, squirming slightly in anticipation and impatience – that always sends a jolt to my cock right away. You're a genius in seducing me, Sammy.”  
  
“I'm not seducing you,” he whines against Dean's lips, making him laugh, when Sam just couldn't take it anymore and placed his lips to Dean's, engaging him into a sloppy kiss with just the typical amount of shyness Sam's kisses usually entail.  
  
“See, you're doing it right now,” Dean chuckles. His green eyes were like orbits and even though Sam would never admit it out loud he knew they were only ever circling around him and it made him so full of sheer happiness he could cry.  
  
“M'not,” he mumbles incoherently.  
  
Dean's hands wander around Sam's body first mindlessly then with new found purpose travel down to Sam's ass. They sneak past the denim, past his boxers and grab him by his soft, warm cheeks, pulling him even closer than Sam thought possible.  
  
“Dean,” Sam moans into his older brother's chin repeatedly until he finally finds what he was trying to say initially. “We have to do Dad's research.”  
  
They were supposed to find some more details to the workings of a specific Hindi goddess they were suspecting being the reason for several mysterious deaths in this town. John had sent them to the library giving them until five to research. And John didn't take kindly to tardiness. If he ordered them to be home by five, they were home by five; not a minute later.  
  
“Got it covered, Sammy,” Dean says and his right hand reached further south until his middle finger reached the pucker of Sam's little hole.  
  
“What? How?” Sam asks, but can't completely stifle the gasp that escapes his lips at the sudden tease to his entrance.  
  
“Already did the research when you were in school,” he explains clipped, to distracted by Sam's mouth suddenly.  
  
“What about the garage?”  
  
“Took the day off. Had Ronny cover my shift today,” Dean replies and smiles almost boyishly about his elaborate plan to engage Sam in something entirely else than research in a nearly forgotten dark little room in the library's basement. “Was looking for a good spot for you and me to be alone and found this article. Thought you'd like it,” he says with a nuance of disappointment by the lack of enthusiasm Sam showed, fully knowing that Sam wouldn't be able to resist a dejected big brother however fake the act may be.  
  
“No, I really like it. I do. It's just...” Sam looks around them sheepishly. “We can't do this here, Dean. This is a library.”  
  
“So what?” He asks nonchalantly, playing around Sam's entrance. The reaction is immediate and Sam's legs buckle slightly forward. Good thing his brother was right in front of him, providing the steady support he needed.  
  
“We can't... What if somebody comes in here?” Sam argues, but his trembling voice and his flushed face let his brother know that he's already far in it. No way could he stop now. Not when his erection is digging into Dean's hips like that.  
  
“Nobody will come this far to the newspaper archive.” His middle finger was probing around the rim of Sam's hole by now and the only thing Sam could do was hang onto his brother tightly.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whined. “You don't know that.”  
  
“Please, Sammy,” Dean whispers into his ear. He is playing dirty and he knows it. It is his ultimate weapon Sam never seemed to be able to resist. “Please. I want to feel you. Want to be in you. Fuck I want to take you right here right now. Please, Sammy, won't you let me?”  
  
A long moment passes until Sam nuzzles his head off Dean's chest and looks up at him through his lashes, just nodding a yes, but that was all Dean needed. He grins happily and holds him even tighter to him. The next kiss was eager and full of anticipation, leaving Sam breathless.  
  
“I'll make this good for you, Sammy. So good... promise... my perfect little Sammy,” Dean almost groans. His jeans becoming too uncomfortable restraining his hard on any longer.  
  
Sam has no doubt he will make good on his promise. He always does.  
  
They stay in that embrace long enough until Dean has him prepped with the bottle of lube he always seems to carry around these days to the point were Sam is groaning in impatience to finally have him inside of him. Laughing lightly he turns Sam around and his little brother knows from experience to bend forward and spread his legs for Dean. He holds himself steady on the book shelf and he can't help it facing the yellow cover with the 'Age of the Golden Boy' imprinted on it. A sudden heat creeps into his cheeks again by the just recent memory. He always felt especially loved by Dean, but since the last boundary, namely the boundary of sexual intimacy, crumbled between them, Dean just seemed so uninhibited to show him every day of every week of every month how much he loved him, how much Sam meant to him. He practically showered him with love and if that wasn't the key to Sam's sensitive heart...  
  
“I'm exploding here, Sammy. Can't take a minute longer not being inside you,” Dean groaned heavily.  
  
“Dean, I want you... I need you...” He reaches impatiently behind him and urges his brother to come closer.  
  
“I can see that...” he leans forward chuckling and then sighs in bliss. “Oh, Sammy, you're so perfect... so perfect for me... my golden boy.” Kissing him one more time, he eventually lines himself up and enters slowly inside the warm heat of Sam's ass.  
  
When he is finally buried to the hilt inside Sam he takes a moment before he moves to let Sam get used to the full stretch. His concern, however, was unfounded as Sam starts to move his hips not being able to wait for Dean.  
  
“Sometimes I wonder who of us is really the insatiable one, Sam,” Dean points out amused, but complies with Sam's need to thrust his cock in and out of the tight heat again and again.  
  
“Feels good,” Sam simply replies, however, blushes immediately noticing a tad late how straightforward he had been. He stutters for words and, although Dean is enjoying his brother's embarrassed squirming, he places a hand on his chest, pulling him closer to him.  
  
“It's okay... Told you I'd make you feel good. But if you keep on being this cute, this will be over rather quickly.”  
  
“M'not cute,” Sam almost mumbles petulantly.  
  
“If you could just see yourself right now. Hiding that flushed face behind your arm, rocking back with each thrust, and tightening your hole every time I hit that sweet spot. It's almost enough to make me come right away. Just the thought of seeing, feeling more of you like this keeps me going. Hearing you moan so enticingly... Told you, you're a genius in the seductive art.”  
  
“Only to you,” Sam replies hoarsely. He is sure no one else would find him cute or seductive. It's just Dean who puts him on a pedestal, worshipping every little act on his part.  
  
“Of course!” Dean groans. “Mine... you're mine, Sammy... if you ever do this with someone else...” He digs his fingers painfully into Sam's hips. If it hurts, Sam at least doesn't let it show.  
  
“Yours, Dean... always...” Sam reaches behind him and his eyes beg him to kiss him. Dean easily complies, but then fastens his tempo, thrusting harder inside.  
  
“Mmh, Dean... Dean... Dea-” A hand is suddenly on Sam's mouth and he can feel Dean stretching over his back, whispering something in his ear before he realizes that someone opened the door to the room.  
  
“Oh, my, why is it so dark in here?” A mid-fifty old looking woman mumbles to herself when she closes the door behind her. “This room could really need a window. Some airing out by the smell of it. My, my...” She continues murmuring to herself.  
  
Sam's breathing accelerates exponentially, Dean can feel his lungs working with his other hand on Sam's chest. He shushes Sam with barely a whisper. The fear and embarrassment in his eyes is almost palpable and Dean could swear hearing him whine his name in his mind.  
  
“Let's see, what did Frank want me to get again?” The librarian studies a small handwritten note in her hand. “Right, Washington Post 29th Oct. 1929.” She puts her half moon glasses on and checks the shelf in front of her for the newspaper she is looking for. After the first shelf didn't seem to hold the particular issue on her list, she went from row to row, slowly coming closer to the boys in the back.  
  
Dean can feel Sam tighten in panic, but fails to take the situation as seriously as his little brother. Instead he leans back up again, pulling Sam with him. Hooking Sam's left leg up over his arm, he makes to spread it to the side, exposing his brother's leaking cock in the air. Sam grips tightly on Dean's arm and shoulder, looking for balance and, mostly, looking for some recognition in Dean's eyes that they are only a few feet away from being seen. However, all he can see is the amusement in his brother's eyes.  
  
“Relax,” he whispers so softly, Sam almost couldn't hear him.  
  
The other hand is still draped over his mouth and Sam is actually grateful Dean helps him stifle any sounds that might pass his lips.  
  
By now the librarian was at the third shelf and still hadn't found the newspaper. Two more shelves and she was at the back where he and Dean were. He almost wills her to find that newspaper already, concentrating to ignore that hard cock that was still in his ass. But Dean being Dean, he wouldn't, couldn't of course stop himself from making the situation worse than it is. Spreading Sam's leg even further, he reached for Sam's cock and began stroking it slowly. The tight grip on his mouth loosens at the same time, leaving it up to Sam himself to suppress any sounds Dean purposefully tries to elicit from him.  
  
Dean agonizingly keeps stroking the hard cock in front of him and Sam tries to push that tormenting hand away, but fails miserably. The intakes of air come more rapidly, more hitched and Sam honestly to god doesn't know how he is supposed to keep silent. Two of Dean's fingers enter Sam's mouth, playing around with Sam's tongue. It is all just so much, Dean jerking him off, his fingers in his mouth, that embarrassingly wide spread of his leg, and the pulsing hot cock in his ass threaten to make him lose it on the spot. And if the steadily approaching stranger doesn't make things worse, it surely is Dean starting to move inside him again.  
  
Last shelf. They are standing right behind that last shelf she still had left to search. Step after step she walks on the other side of the shelf. Step. Dean plays with the slit on his cock. Another Step. He grinds the spot in his ass that sends sparks to his eyes over and over. Step. He licks the spot right beneath his ear, nibbling on the earlobe when he takes it captive. Step. And now she is standing right in front of them, only the newspapers and magazines help the dark to conceal them. Dean rolls his hip in a torturous movement, having to hold most of Sam's weight when he further leans back into him. Sam throws his head back into the curve of Dean's neck, trying to subdue the sound brooding deep inside his chest, trying to break free. The grip on the back of Dean's head tightens painfully when Sam almost loses it. And isn't that the perfect moment for Dean to stroke him one more time with an expert movement to send him off the edge? Sam's harsh trembling seems to be evidence of that and this time it is he who has to stifle a chuckle into Sam's shoulder.  
  
“There it is!” The woman finally found the newspaper from 1929 and contrary to her coming in, she quickly leaves the room to head back to the front desk.  
  
Sam collapses almost immediately after the door closes. Dean holds him though, so at first he thinks it's still his body emitting the tremors shaking his body, after some seconds for his mind to clear, he finally notices though that it is Dean laughing behind him.

  
“That wasn't funny, Dean,” Sam whines out of breath.  
  
“You were so tense. I almost thought you'd get a stroke,” Dean continued to laugh nonetheless.  
  
Sam felt so boneless and exhausted, barely able to keep himself on his feet, although it is mainly Dean's effort that keeps him upright more or less.  
  
“What were you thinking, Dean?!” Sam's mind eventually clears enough to form something akin to anger.  
  
“Honestly? Every second that woman was in here and I felt you squirming in my hold the only thing I could think about was how hot you were, Sammy,” Dean groans so needy into the back of Sam's neck and without him even registering his cock moves already, trying to come to a climax himself now.  
  
“Dean-” Sam starts to complain, but is cut off by Dean's deep voice.  
  
“I swear you were so hot, the way you held onto me... the way you sucked on my fingers... It was almost too much for me to take.”  
  
Sam can hardly comprehend that Dean had been affected by this as much as Sam had. Dean's hand brushes from Sam's belly up to his chest until it stops to have a hold on his shoulder. His nose nuzzles into his shoulder blade and Sam can hear him inhale a deep breath, followed by a satisfied groan that sends shivers down his spine.  
  
“What would you have done if she saw us?” Sam tried to still sound upset, but his anger had long left his voice.  
  
“I was pretty sure she wouldn't come to the back. There are only magazines on this shelf, no newspapers. And even if she had heard one of those sweet moans I love hearing you make, I knew you didn't want her to see you, so naturally I would have stepped up before she could see you. Let her appreciate a sight of the Dean,” he says smirking amused. That makes Sam laugh, too. The thought of a posturing naked Dean emerging from the shelves is so absurd and at the same time frighteningly believable. “Okay now?” Dean asks, squeezing his chest once. “I'd like to get finished here.”  
  
“Jerk.”  
  
“Bitch.”  
  
He thrusts harder into Sam, leaving more kisses on his back, and it's the fragile sound of his name that rolls of Sam's lips that leads Dean to his climax eventually. He collapses unceremoniously to the ground, bringing Sam down with him and heaving his brother onto his lap.  
  
“Kiss me?” He asks, pressing his forehead to the side of Sam's head, still trying to catch his breath. Sam shifts slightly toward him and obliges, placing his lips on his brothers. He lets Dean run his fingers through his hair, while deepening the kiss and smiles happily and exhausted against his lips afterward. After a few long moments of calming down, Dean notices Sam's diverted attention.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” He asks, following his line of sight to the Science Spectrum magazine.  
  
It takes Sam a moment to answer.  
  
“I think the title is a little sexist.”  
  
Dean laughs, shaking his head thinking that it was so Sam to think about the question of sexism in a magazine cover while being thoroughly fucked. Well, maybe not that thoroughly. Dean had to correct that the next time they were having sex so all he'd be able to think in the end was the name of his big brother and nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
